I'm Sorry
by BE-A-TLE
Summary: A one shot fic. Wrote this for a friend of mine, but maybe you might like it.


Disclaimer- Don't Own, don't claim too, so please don't sue.  
  
Author Notes- You can blame this on Mary Beth. She said "So, what happned to Dennis' spirit?" So this is my answer......kinda anyhow. sorry if it sucks. Reviews are always appreicated but never required.  
  
For Mary Beth  
  
I'm Sorry  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
I don't know what else to say. Nothing else can be said. I'm dead, so she can't hurt me, but she wouldn't have hurt me. I can tell. She put up no fight when we caught her. I didn't want to catch her. I pleaded for him to let her go. He'd destroyed my pain killers for that, and I had to spend the next few days in relative agony. I know I deserved it.  
  
"I'm so sorry."   
  
I slid down the wall and wrapped my arms around my legs. God, I never imagined I'd make a living the way I had. It was wrong, it was dirty. I'm dirty for it. I deserve nothing more than to go right to hell and burn for the rest of eternity, but I know it doesn't work that way.   
  
I wish it did.  
  
She stops in front of me, and smiles. I don't deserve her kindness, I don't deserve anything but what I got. I got a painful death, and I deserved it. How could I do what I did? For money, and I was fooling myself if I really thought Cyrus Kriticos was my friend and accepted me for who I was. He was just the first to really make it profitable to be WHAT I was.  
  
Life had never been easy.  
  
People couldn't touch me. Its horrible when your own mother can't touch you. When your five years old, you can't understand why, after you've skinned your knee, your mother won't kiss it better. Why your mother hands you the bandage to put on yourself. I think it may have been harder on my mother than it was on me.  
  
School was a daily torment. There was a group of kids, I'll never forget them, who would select one of them, to run up and touch me. I'd go into seziures and they'd laugh. By the time I was eleven, it was deemed I couldn't be in public school. At eighteen I left. My mother and I both knew it was for the best. I'd start over, but it didn't get easier.  
  
Then I met Cyrus.  
  
The thought of having food in my fridge, and money for rent seemed to outweight the fact that what I was helping him with was wrong. I didn't know what he was doing. How could I have helped him without knowing?  
  
Kalina was right. This is all my fault.  
  
I'm only glad I died instead of Arthur. He had his kids to take care of, and since I was responsible for his wife being in this house, it only seemed fit that I be the one to die. I really had hoped I wouldn't bleed to death, and I guess I hadn't. The combination of internal hemorrages and the final punishment of being snapped against the wall was to much, and I died.  
  
I had forseen it.  
  
I had welcomed death with open arms, and I would be lying to say I wasn't afraid. I'm afraid now. Afraid to look up into the face of the woman I had trapped here who is smiling down at me with nothing but kindness. I can hear a slight rustle and her cold hand brushes against my cheek. I flinch back, but in death it seems my gift is gone. I'm almost relieved. I finally lift my gaze to meet hers.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Her words startle me, and I stare dumbly at her for a few moments. Her smile grows wider and she holds out her hand to me. I hesitantly accept it, and we both come to our feet. I feel guilty tears come to my eyes, slightly surprised that even in death, I can feel this badly.   
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
She wordlessly pulls me into a hug, and I stiffen because of conditioning. After a moment or two, I come to the realization she can't hurt me and go limp. A choked sob rises in the back of my throat, and her grip tightens. She must have been a wonderful mother. She pulls away and I instantly avert my eyes to the ground.   
  
"Do not suffer so, Dennis Rafkin."   
  
My head comes up in alarm when she knew my name. She smiles in what almost seems like a serene amusement. Her hand finds mine and she leads me towards the opened doors. I don't know where we're going, and I don't care by this point.  
  
I feel safe in her hands.  
  
And if she can forgive me, then maybe forgivness isn't to much to ask. 


End file.
